resurrection
by selphegor
Summary: Draco had been running ever since the war ended and there's nothing that could stop him... Until something unexpected happens. Something that feels like a trap and something that makes him feel something he never thought he would.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : This is a work of fiction based on the world created by J.K. Rowling.

 **Author's note** : okay, so this is my first time writing a fanfic and hello, thank you for reading!

* * *

It was just another day. At least that was what Draco kept telling himself as he dragged his suitcase upstairs. He should've gotten used to moving, but he still disliked it. He struggled as he managed to find the key to his new apartment and he walked in, leaving the suitcase next to the door.

It's been ten years since the war ended. Ten years since everything went down and ten years since he'd been running. His name had been cleared, but he saw the way people looked at him. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't return to Hogwarts, knowing the memories were too alive there.

So Draco packed his things and left the Mansion.

He didn't think he'd miss it so much. Draco had been restless in the last ten years, trying to find some peace. He put himself through hell but he knew he deserved that. He lived among Muggles and he lived among Wizards: he preferred the Muggles. They didn't know his face. That didn't matter once he'd been moving around for long enough that even Wizards started to forget his face.

Draco didn't think he'd enjoy being forgotten that much.

He spent his day unpacking. It wasn't like he had a lot of things – he'd gotten too used to moving around to treasure anything. His new place was small and freshly painted, so he opened the windows. He lived in an old apartment building now. He picked the place because he liked the view. The city lights were bright outside by the time he was done with everything. He was hungry so he decided to go out and grab a bite. He put on a coat and walked outside.

The winter was approaching and it was getting cold. Draco headed down the street and entered the first coffee place he stumbled upon. He closed the door behind him and turned around when someone bumped into him.

Draco frowned and looked up – and froze because it wasn't possible.

"I'm so sorry, I was rushing out and I didn't even look and I should've…" The man was talking quickly, eager to apologize. Draco noticed a blush on his cheeks. He never got to find out what the man should've done because his eyes met Draco's and he went quiet, confirming Draco's suspicion.

"Malfoy," Potter's voice came out different and Draco wished he'd never left the apartment.

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded, the confusion well hidden under the coldness of his voice.

"I—" Potter's confusion was obvious. "Getting a sandwich?"

Potter shook his head in defeat and Draco couldn't help but notice that his curls were still dark and messy. His glasses were round and very similar to the ones he wore back then. Potter seemed almost familiar and Draco inhaled sharply.

"You should go," Draco pointed out, refusing to look the man in his eyes again. Refusing to let the memories take over, refusing to stand there and wonder what happened to Potter. It's been a while since The Prophet published an article about him. The last one was about Potter's disappearance. Draco always assumed he ran away with the Weasley girl.

"You said you were rushing out. Go, Potter," Draco moved out of his way when he explained his previous words. He couldn't help but notice how Potter's expression changed when Draco told him to go. It felt almost like kicking a puppy.

"Oh," Potter thought about it, then moved to go. He was right next to Draco when he changed his mind. "I… I live here. Nearby. Are you…" Potter obviously ran out of words.

It was odd. Draco didn't remember Potter being so confused at Hogwarts. It was almost like he was doing his best to find the words. But he couldn't deny the fact that Potter was all grown up now. He stood almost as tall as Draco.

"I have to go," Draco spoke up. He wasn't going to participate. He wasn't going to catch up with Potter, find out what the man had been up to. He would've never moved here if he knew Potter was around. So he glanced at the man one last time before he brushed past him, refusing to say anything else.

What was there to say anyway?


	2. Chapter 2

It's been ten days. Draco decided it'd be okay to go back to that coffee place. It wasn't like he was avoiding it – he just found more places. New places. Places that were further down the street and that didn't have Potter in them. At least not so far.

But it would be absolutely ridiculous to avoid a place just because he ran into his former nemesis there. Draco pulled on his coat as he made up his mind. Screw Potter, he'll go to that place. Even if it meant that he might run into the Boy Who Lived.

Draco didn't expect so many memories to come rushing back after he crossed paths with Potter after all the time. He thought he'd gotten rid of the past in the last ten years, but now he kept waking up from those weird dreams which were mostly about the things he buried deep inside. He walked the Hogwarts hallways in his dreams and got sucked into the darkness all over again. He woke up shaky and shocked, but Draco knew there was no solution to that. In a way, it was all his fault so maybe he deserved the nightmares and the terrors that came with them.

He caught himself thinking about it again so he closed the door a bit too hard and locked the apartment before heading out. Draco was slowly getting used to the streets and to the city lights that sometimes seemed like his only friends in the nighttime. He left everything behind when he left ten years ago. Draco was well aware of the fact that it would make him incredibly lonely, but he was a _Malfoy_ , for Merlin's sake, and Malfoys didn't get lonely.

And Malfoys didn't worry or care or do anything that would let the world know they weren't all that indifferent to it. He often thought about his mother's ability to keep her cool in every situation and how his father would never show emotions. He occasionally sent them an owl just to let them know he was okay. They never wrote back, but Draco assumed he owed them a word here and there. After the war things were hard for them as well: but his mother bottled it all up and his father ended in Azkaban anyway. Draco avoided the worst fate and it was mostly thanks to Potter - and his thoughts were back to Potter and his stupidly gorgeous face.

Honestly, Draco was a mess.

But he still walked into the coffee place with all the certainty he could muster. If nothing else, Draco had always been great at oozing coldness and confidence. It made him seem like he was untouchable which was good. He didn't want to make friends - which resulted in him being lonesome. Not that Draco would ever admit that.

"Hello," he greeted the waitress, a young girl who seemed absolutely too happy to respond to his cold word. He ordered coffee and some food and then decided to sit down.

Draco picked the table in the corner. It was strategically a good position: he was able to see who came in and who left. He liked having control over places. That first year after the war it wasn't exactly safe for a former Death Eater to be out on his own. He absent-mindedly touched the part of his arm underneath the sweater which was hiding the Mark before he looked up when his food was delivered. He murmured a quiet thank you to the waitress.

The sandwich was delicious and the coffee was fairly good. He looked up every time someone walked in and only when a messy-haired brunet showed up it hit Draco that he'd been waiting. As much as he'd hate to admit it, his heart almost stopped at the sight because honestly, Potter looked… _hot_. His dark curls looked like Potter just climbed out of his bed and he wore a leather jacket that suited him.

Fuck.

Draco forced his eyes down, focusing on the stupid sandwich. He was all too well aware of how Potter stopped and looked around before he headed forward to place his order. Draco decided to mind his own business while he mentally scolded himself.

He didn't _need_ this.

He didn't need to see Potter.

He didn't need the stupid sandwich which was, in all honesty, just an excuse to be able to come to the stupid coffee place.

Draco was suddenly having all too many realizations and he just hoped that Potter would walk away.

But this wasn't a scenario in which Draco would be so lucky.

"Malfoy," Potter sat down on the opposite side of Draco, his eyes studying him from behind his stupid glasses. "You're here again."

Draco frowned as he looked up, giving Potter a deadly glance. "Missed me, Potter?" Draco couldn't stop himself and he rolled his eyes. It seemed like Potter could still bring out the worst in him.

Potter tilted his head to the side as the waitress brought his drink over. Draco watched him as Potter wrapped his fingers around the warm cup. Potter was apparently making up his mind and then he spoke up again: "I thought you'd show up sooner or later," he nodded.

Draco felt absolutely baffled. Why the hell would Potter care? And why couldn't Draco stop staring at those lean fingers around the cup?

"It's odd seeing a familiar face around here. You're far from home, Malfoy," Potter pointed out, his eyes openly searching Draco's face. Draco had no idea what he was looking for, but he wasn't going to ask.

"I most likely won't stay long," Draco scoffed in reply and he probably just imagined that Potter's expression switched to something else for a moment, something… Sadder? Almost hurt? He felt like he just kicked a puppy now, great.

"So… Why are you here?" Potter asked, clearing his throat. His voice sounded hoarse and Draco's eyes slid a little lower, even though he cursed himself for it.

Draco never allowed himself to get involved with people. He went home with a stranger every now and then, but he never cared for those people. He liked both boys, he always knew that. He never cared whose bed he ended in and yet he felt something move inside of him when his eyes traced the shape of Potter's lips.

Oh, Draco hated himself for it. Besides, Potter was probably there to make sure Draco wasn't up to something. Draco remembered the last year they spent at Hogwarts. He couldn't forget it anyway - the nightmares and the scars reminded him of it every single day. Back then Potter used to tail him every day – and yet that didn't stop things to go really bad really fast.

"Malfoy?" Potter arched his eyebrow at him.

Stupid git.

"Food. Coffee. Why are _you_ here?" Draco leaned back, keeping the distance between two of them the best he could. It didn't feel like the table could provide enough distance.

To his surprise Potter chuckled and shook his head. "They make amazing sandwiches, don't you think?"

Draco stared at Potter, wondering what the hell has gotten into him. Potter's laughter was warm and he acted almost friendly. It made Draco even more suspicious. But before he could say something he might regret later, the waitress delivered Potter's sandwich and Draco watched him as he took the first bite.

Shit, it was almost an erotic experience, the way Potter picked up his stupid sandwich and took a bite. He even went as far as to let out a tiny little moan that made Draco's stomach flip.

No.

Draco wasn't going to sit there and feel attracted to Harry Fucking Potter.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco's voice was colder than before.

It made Potter stop eating for a moment. He slowly chewed the bite in his mouth before he gave Draco a shrug. "It's nice seeing a familiar face. It's been a while since I… Well, since I met someone I used to know," Potter admitted.

"What does that mean?" Draco demanded.

Potter offered him a tiny smile. "After the war… It's been tough. I moved. I moved around a lot. It helped. Seeing you after all those years was a surprise and I wanted to catch up with you. At first, I thought my mind is playing tricks on me, but no. It was you. It _is_ you." Potter's speech was accompanied with a shrug that explained absolutely nothing.

Draco realized he was staring at Potter like the man just announced something that made absolutely no sense - and in a way, he did. The way he empathized the last part bugged Draco and he wanted to ask what it meant - of course it was him, but he wouldn't expect Potter to be happy about it. Or excited. Or whatever the hell it was Potter felt.

"Potter, I have no idea what you're going on about. We're not friends, this is stupid," Draco groaned, unhappy with the fact that he was even considering what Potter said.

"We _weren't_ friends," Potter corrected him, a warm smile still on his lips. "We _could_ be friends." The way Potter said those words shocked Draco. He made it sound easy and normal, like they could actually live in a universe where Potter didn't hate Draco's guts.

"You... " Draco shook his head. "You want to be my _friend_?"

There were so many things hidden under those words. So many questions. Draco often wondered if Potter ever forgave him for the role he played in the war. He came to his hearing and said things that benefited Draco's case, but he never saw Potter after that. Sometimes Draco would check out The Prophet just to see if they wrote anything about The Boy Who Lived, their stupid Saviour. For a while, they did. Draco stared at the photos. Potter awkwardly eating at the wedding of Granger and Weasley. Potter trying to shield his Weasley from the photographers. Potter talking to the Minister. And then it all stopped. There were a few articles about his disappearance. And then, nothing.

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice brought him back to reality and he looked up.

"What?" Draco demanded grudgingly and Potter sighed.

"I asked if you have plans for tomorrow night," Potter repeated and Draco wanted to just get up and leave because this was a weird situation he didn't expect to find himself in.

"Are you asking me out?" Draco blurted before he could stop himself and then frowned because he should've just said no.

Potter seemed surprised, but Draco couldn't help but notice how his eyes checked him out. It was almost like he was considering Draco's words and trying to decide what to say, but then Potter shrugged and looked Draco in his eyes.

"It seems like you could use some time out," Potter responded.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped.

"Nothing," Potter responded a bit too fast. Draco didn't fail to notice how his voice was now softer. Draco probably just imagined the blush on Potter's cheeks. "Just… It'll be fun. Come on, Malfoy," Potter smiled invitingly and Draco stared at him.

Was this a trap?

It _had_ to be a trap.

There was no way Potter would be nice to him just for the sake of it, not after everything that happened.

"I don't do fun," Draco replied, closing himself up. It was what he always did: he pushed people away. It'd be almost impossible to let someone in after ten years and that person definitely couldn't be Potter.

So Draco pushed away the plate with his half-eaten sandwich and moved to get out of the booth and walk away. The curt apology was already on his lips when Potter reached for his hand to make him stop.

The contrast of their skin tones seemed fascinating. Draco stared at their hands, a look of utter horror in his eyes. What in the Merlin's name did Potter think he was doing?

"Please," Potter said, his voice more serious now. Softer. It tugged at something inside of Draco's chest. "We can meet some other day. What's the worst that could happen?" Potter smiled, almost like he knew the list of awful situations they could find themselves in.

Draco pulled his hand from underneath Potter's, the warmth gone in seconds. "Are you going to let me go if I agree?" Draco asked, his voice huskier than usually. This seemed like a dangerous idea, a stupid game to play.

"Sure," Potter beamed, the wide smile catching Draco unprepared. What reasons did Potter have to look so damn satisfied with himself? This _had_ to be a trap. "Do you have a phone? I can text you the details," Potter said, offering him a pen that he pulled out of his pocket. It made Draco wonder why in the world would Potter carry a pen with him, but he didn't ask. Instead, he wrote his number on the napkin and pushed it over to Potter, careful to not touch his hand again, mostly because the spot where Potter touched him still burned on his hand.

It made him feel things Draco didn't feel in ages. Maybe never. And it made him want to run again.

Draco got up with a frown on his forehead, determined to not even think about it.

"And Malfoy?" Potter's voice stopped him once again and he looked down at the man who seemed way too happy for his own good.

Draco just arched his eyebrows in reply, expecting Potter to answer.

"Thank you," Potter said softly. It was another unexpected thing and Draco just nodded, mostly because he felt at a complete loss of words.

The cold air outside finally made Draco relax and realize just how tense he'd been for the last few moments. Potter was acting odd. Something was up.

Something _had_ to be up - how else could Draco explain everything that happened?

It simply didn't make sense. The other thing that didn't make sense was the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then again, he didn't have to worry about that just yet.


End file.
